


Storm in a Teacup

by Ulan



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Chess, Conversations, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Grey Havens, Laws and Customs Among the Eldar, Libraries, M/M, Mithlond, Poetry, Third Age
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-08
Updated: 2016-11-08
Packaged: 2018-08-29 20:21:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8504101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ulan/pseuds/Ulan
Summary: A strong storm strikes Western Eriador. With their return trip to Imladris thus delayed, Erestor finds himself stranded in Mithlond with the last Elf he would wish for himself as company.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Bless these stray stories and my short-term memory. 
> 
> I found this old draft timestamped around June. I'd say it was 90% done, but I remember I was stumped as to how it should end. That time was around the rainy seasons where I am from, so that greatly influenced the mood of the story. Checking through my notes, this was apparently also another attempt to reconcile 'Laws and Customs of the Eldar' with modern perspectives on love and relationships, especially with how we treat them in fandom. I don't know why I am so bothered by that strict, old-fashioned piece of--
> 
> But lastly, and maybe more importantly, this story was inspired by a prompt given to me back when I was writing 'Our Side of the World'. It feels like such a long time ago that I wonder if my prompter will still find this, lol. Anyway, to Lana, who requested for an enemies-to-lovers story - your prompt actually gave me two stories, but this one went longer than stories for OSotW usually went and I struggled how to conclude it for a while. It apparently needed to stew for a few months, but now here it is. ;D

Erestor frowns at the grey skies. The waves below it do not look any better, as they are reaching heights Erestor has never even seen before.

"Círdan says this will be a big one."

At the sound of footsteps, Erestor feels his hackles rising, but immediately forces himself to remain calm. It was, after all, an innocent statement well enough, regardless of the source.

"I was afraid of that," he says as neutrally as he is able. "Did he say how many days we can expect to be delayed?"

Glorfindel heaves a great sigh as he comes into view, now a tall figure that moves to stand beside Erestor. Erestor sees him raise a hand to rub at the back of his golden head, fingers playing with those legendary waves - a familiar mannerism, large and bold, as everything about Glorfindel tends to be.

"Several days, perhaps a fortnight," says the fair-haired captain. "The heavy rains will be only for a few days, but we need dry weather and Sun for travel."

Erestor mutters a curse.

"Oh, I know," huffs Glorfindel, sounding amused. "This must be killing you, Counsellor. The Valar forbid that your schedule not be followed!" He turns to Erestor, and Erestor need not look at him to know that the other has an eyebrow raised, and likely, a smirk on his lips. "Shall I tell others that you shall be indisposed for the rest of the day, busy as I am sure you will be with fixing that calendar of yours?"

"Someone has to prepare and do the planning," says Erestor. "Not everyone has your talents, after all, nor are we as favoured by fate and the Valar that we can trust blindly that all will be well."

Glorfindel promptly falls quiet. Whatever the reasons were for his return, he never liked being treated above other Elves, and neither does he appreciate invoking the names of the Valar when it comes to himself. It is the one thing he dislikes most and Erestor knows it; it is precisely why he said what he did.

Pushing each other's buttons - they have become quite good at it over the years.

Glorfindel leaves after that. Erestor watches him go, his own shoulders easing from the tension that always descends upon him whenever he is in the other lord's presence.

They never did get along, he and Glorfindel. Something about the reborn Elf struck Erestor the wrong way, and the situation only grew worse with every encounter. Over the years, scathing remarks and captious comments thoughtlessly thrown, as though run now by instinct, have become their norm, much to the great frustration of those around them, not least of all Elrond, their lord.

And now? It seems he faces a week with Glorfindel, with no work to distract them or even anything to use as an excuse to avoid company.

Erestor turns back to the roaring Sea and the dark clouds above it, fast approaching.

*

It was one of those assignments, tasks of a different nature and concern that nevertheless unfortunately coincide in terms of location and timing. Glorfindel had business at the Havens at about the same time Elrond needed Círdan's input on a treaty, but could not come himself for he had business first with Thranduil, who is now king of Eryn Galen. Thranduil's rule is new yet still that Elrond thought it wise to put him first in all things, until relationships have settled and the Elven realms are stable again with one another. It was because of this that, when Glorfindel requested to take a trip, Elrond was only too happy to grant it, provided, that was, that Glorfindel take his chief counsellor along with him, to work with Círdan in Elrond's stead.

It had been a difficult discussion, explaining how bad a joint trip with Glorfindel can be. However, Elrond, Erestor thinks spitefully, is a cold, uncaring dictator who will take it against him if he refuses the assignment merely due to the choice of company.

"I do not care for this juvenile... thing you both have going, whatever the reason for it might be," Elrond had said with that insufferable patronising stare. "What I will be concerned about is if something important to the running of this valley is put aside for the sole reason that you would rather not be in the presence of one who keeps pulling your pigtails. Really, Erestor? Just how old are you?"

Pulling pigtails. What a ridiculous thing to call it.

To be fair to Elrond, it must be difficult for him to have two of his senior advisers to be so against one another. Actually, such a thing could have been ideal had Erestor and Glorfindel been able to keep disagreements professional. That, unfortunately, seldom happens, and more often than not, Erestor finds himself calling Glorfindel names he had never had the occasion to use on anyone or anywhere else prior to their meeting. Glorfindel, in turn, gives as good as he gets, and words like "obstinate", "vexing", and just recently, "dour and boring", are becoming annoyingly commonplace in an otherwise impersonal council.

That they are acting like children, of course, does not escape Erestor. But it cannot be helped anymore, he thinks to himself. Butting heads has become habit to them both, and such things are difficult to shake off.

Outside of Erestor's bedroom window, the first droplets of rain begin to dot the glass.

*

"The rains have begun."

Erestor barely suppresses a frown even as he cuts through the fish on his plate. "Thank you for the information, Captain. Certainly, that is not something I could determine for myself by just looking out the windows."

Despite Erestor's attempts to exude an air of one who wishes to be alone, Glorfindel nevertheless takes the seat beside him.

"Small talk, Counsellor," says Glorfindel even as he examines the dinner spread before them. "If you would find the time to hone it as a skill, you might find yourself with more friends." He eventually selects the same dish Erestor picked for himself.

"I have enough friends."

"First time I heard someone claiming 'none' is 'enough'."

Erestor feels his nerves prickle with that familiar annoyance, but he bites his lips to keep from saying anything else. They are, after all, still at the dining hall, and while Círdan has finally relented and stopped treating them as esteemed guests, allowing Erestor to select a corner seat with more privacy, they can still easily attract attention if they are not careful or quiet.

"Now..." Glorfindel inexplicably continues to speak. "Had you let me continue with that introductory statement, I was about to say that it is only now beginning to sink in that we shall have a few days free. _Absolutely_ free. Can you remember the last time you have had such a thing?"

Erestor cannot, but he also would rather not indulge Glorfindel and his inane conversation topic.

"Listen," says Glorfindel. "I was thinking--"

"That is a first," mutters Erestor before he could stop himself.

Fortunately, Glorfindel ignores him. "Do you not think it embarrassing if Círdan, or anyone here for that matter, were to see us as we usually are? We are dignitaries from Imladris. Say Círdan were to tell Elrond about certain problematic behaviours..." Glorfindel trails off here, letting Erestor conclude the sentence himself.

"I am glad you have thought about such concerns; it shows maturity, which you seldom display. One would think, however, that the simplest solution is to just avoid one another. That way, we will not find ourselves in situations that would cast our realm in a bad light."

"Aah, but then would they not think it strange that the two dignitaries from Imladris are not speaking to one another? It is natural to seek the company of someone familiar, after all."

"I think you are overly concerned with gossip. That is none of their business."

Glorfindel heaves a great sigh and leans back on his seat. "We have been stranded here for but a day, and already I am going out of my mind with nothing to do."

"Read a book."

"I _have_."

"Read some more."

"The bounds of your creativity sometimes really astound me. Is that all you can suggest? How ever did you become chief counsellor?"

"You overgrown child," Erestor says irritably, turning now to Glorfindel. "If you require attention, why do you not befriend the people here?"

"I have, but I realised that for such interactions to be truly satisfying requires a level of rapport that I cannot gain in but a week."

"I am confused still as to why you are here in front of me, as I am fairly sure you can have more rapport with a complete stranger than with me."

Glorfindel strangely smiles at this and leans closer to Erestor, who immediately backs away. Glorfindel pretends not to notice. "I disagree. I think we just need to work on a few things, but your company can be sufficient for my needs. It does, however, require some sort of truce while we are here in Mithlond."

"And what, go back to the way we were once we return to Imladris? That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard." Erestor pushes back from the table and stands. "I am perfectly content with my own company, and I owe you nothing, so I need not cater to your whims. I never have, so I do not see how you think this time would be different. Excuse me, Captain."

Erestor takes his leave. 

*

Glorfindel, at least, did not lie when he said he had been reading. The next time they meet, it is in Mithlond's library, in the middle of which is a long chaise where Erestor is sitting, watching the rain from the closed glass door of the balcony. Glorfindel comes in with a book; Erestor recognises it - a book of Númenórean poetry he himself has read the last time he was here in Mithlond.

"Big surprise, finding you here," says Glorfindel upon seeing him. The captain walks straight to one of the shelves and places the book back in it.

Erestor does not deign him with an answer, having judged the other's business complete with the return of his book. Outside, the trees sway violently, the rain almost falling sideways with such extreme winds.

"You know," says that voice again. Erestor's eyes widen minutely as Glorfindel comes into view and sits beside him. "We do not have to return to the way we were, if all things work out here for the better. Certainly we are not the only ones who would benefit from an improvement in our interactions, but even if that were just the case, that is still not something to belittle. Frankly, I am getting tired of your sniping, and maybe just a little bit growing depressed."

Erestor raises an eyebrow at what was surely an exaggeration, but continues to remain silent. Glorfindel leans back - for all intents and purposes looking as though he would linger a while - and speaks again, "I have been thinking this a while now, but we actually have a good case for a potentially rewarding friendship, had I not been caught up being offended by you and had you not been such a right troll about it all. To be sure, you have your moments when I find you entertaining, as long as I am not at the receiving end of your tirade."

"Friendship," repeats Erestor, finally deciding to speak. "You should have thought of that and aimed for it the first time you approached."

Glorfindel chuckles at this. "Well, it was not as though that was all I wanted from you," he says, surprising Erestor with his candour.

This is seldom mentioned between them, the reason for their animosity, and to Erestor's reckoning, Glorfindel only ever does so when he is in a particularly foul mood and is about to say something especially scathing. Right now, however, Glorfindel only looks thoughtful.

"I wanted you first as a lover," continues the captain. "Friendship would have been me settling. What fool aims for their second choice on the first try?"

"Evidently, someone crass and bullheaded, who does not know how to assess the situation first and calculate the best choice among only the likely outcomes," says Erestor, who cannot quite look at Glorfindel. Visions of a time long ago when he first beheld the Elda returned from Aman come unbidden, but these he pushes again to the back of his mind, where they belonged. Outwardly, Erestor continues to stare out the glass. "Are you telling me that you make choices solely based on your own desires?

"You are honestly the only one I know who makes life choices the way you just described."

"And that is the answer as to why I am chief counsellor and you merely the captain executing my counsels."

Erestor feels Glorfindel shift beside him, and from the corner of his eyes sees him running a hand down his face. "Right, hold it. We are starting again." Glorfindel pauses, as though in thought. "How about I tell you why I am here in Mithlond?"

Erestor frowns. "Why would you? It is a personal matter and it is not my business."

"I offer you the information freely. Elbereth, what a difficult Elf." Glorfindel rests his slippered feet on the coffee table in front of them and sinks further back in the couch, hands folded in front of him. Yes, he most definitely is staying. "I met with an old friend."

Erestor sighs and resigns himself to it.

"His name is Olórin... well, Olórin in Valinor anyway. He might be called a different name here in Middle-Earth. He came by way of a ship."

Despite his attempts to remain uninterested, Erestor finds himself listening upon hearing the name as well as the mentions of a ship.

"He is of the Ainur," continues Glorfindel. "I met with him sitting with Nienna back in Lórien."

"The kind one, Nienna the Merciful?" asks Erestor. "Not the sort of company I would imagine for you."

Glorfindel huffs a tired sort of laugh. "You bastard," he says, but there is also some amusement in his voice. "But of course, you would think so. She is a delightful teacher, though. She sees much, and seems to understand the children of Eru better than anyone else." Glorfindel has a fond look on his face that Erestor has never seen there before. He is therefore taken by surprise when Glorfindel suddenly looks at him, and regards him thoughtfully. "I like to think I learned a thing or two from her, although... no, I do not suppose you will think so. I do not think I was able to exercise her teachings when it comes to you, after all, but that is a whole different matter."

Erestor wonders if Glorfindel is being purposely cryptic. What a bad storyteller.

"Olórin, though," continues Glorfindel. "You might meet him soon. He mentioned passing through the Elven realms sometime in his journeys."

"He is no longer here?" asks Erestor. There is also another thing: "Why do you say he comes by way of a ship? Can the Ainur not just come and go, and land in Middle-Earth however they please?"

"I think he will stay in his current Fána for a while," replies Glorfindel. He then regards Erestor for a moment, as though reflecting on his next words. "The truth is that I did not come here alone, and there were others before Olórin. He is the fifth who came. The first two came with me on the same ship; their names were Pallando and Alatar."

Erestor is quiet as he takes this in, then shifts slowly to turn to Glorfindel. The stumbling beginning notwithstanding, he realises it now - this is no simple story. Five of the Ainur coming to Middle-Earth, clothed in Fánar in which they shall stay for "a while", as Glorfindel said...

"Something is happening," he concludes gravely, the weight of it sinking in.

"Pallando and Alatar were to journey east," tells Glorfindel. "I remember them saying so. I have never seen or heard from them again after that day we landed and they set forth immediately on their journey. By the time we marched to Mordor, I did look at the host of the Enemy to see the number of those who came from where my two companions were supposed to go."

"There were Men still in Sauron's army," Erestor points out, remembering those times. "Was stopping the Enemy not their intention?"

"I like to think there could have been more of those Men, had Pallando and Alatar not arrived. It is the more optimistic view. Besides, I have looked at those maps and the territories beyond Rhûn and Harad are vast. One can assume the number of those who could potentially carry the Enemy's banners, and they were far less than one can expect."

It is not a stretch, thinks Erestor, but also still highly speculative, and so he does not comment further. He can think of many other things that could have happened. Glorfindel seems decided to think well of his two friends, however, and whatever names the reborn lord might have called Erestor in the past, Erestor is not one to throw slurs at friends.

"What of the other two?" he asks instead. "After Pallando and Alatar, and before Olórin."

"I know them not," says Glorfindel. "Olórin only mentioned that he is the last."

"There have been no major battles after the last war, and even now your friend has just arrived." Erestor frowns as he turns it over in his head. "Two were sent in anticipation of a war that ended the last age. Now, we have three more. It does not look good." Already the strategist and adviser in him is rising to the fore, and his thoughts stray to his Lord Elrond in Imladris, and the things they have just rebuilt. "What of Elves? Have others been sent back aside from you?"

"I do not think so. I felt it when Olórin was coming, as I did the other two."

"So, in total, six of you," says Erestor.

Glorfindel smiles with amusement, but perhaps it looks a little softer than his usual. "I can hear you thinking from way over here," he says. "Listen, Erestor. It is not pleasant news, I know, but it _is_ a favourable thing for us. Now, there are no explicit instructions for us to keep things secret, but neither would it be wise to spread the word around, at least this early. People are prone to panic, especially when it comes to things like this, and seldom is it unwise to keep stealth for as long as one can afford it. We know little more than you do, only that Sauron exists here still, and while he has lost his Ring, so is it also lost to us. But trust me that it is early yet to fret. You are not even meant to know. "

Erestor eyes Glorfindel suspiciously. "Then why are you telling me now?"

Glorfindel's smile widens to a grin. "Because I wish to buy you with information, but ever had your price been high. Besides, I know you can keep quiet. I also expect that you shall be involved eventually, one way or another, given that you work closely with Elrond. Consider this a friendly tip, a token of my sincerity, so you are not taken by surprise when the time comes." He then raises an eyebrow at Erestor, lips quirked still in that lopsided smile. "How about it? Truce?"

Erestor looks at him for several moments, still wary of what the old lord can possibly be thinking. "Do what you want," he does say finally. "You must indeed be desperate, if you throw this strong a hand early in the proceedings."

Glorfindel laughs. "You could say that." 

*

It has not been a good morning for Erestor.

He slept little as it was, spending much of it staring out his window with his thoughts straying to days many years ago. That meeting with Glorfindel at the library the day prior was an unexpected thing, although it is difficult to say whether it was because of the story Glorfindel shared, or that he spoke with Erestor at all. It is an odd thing to realise that it was the first time in their acquaintance that they sat beside one another and spoke as long as they did.

It is not everyday that Erestor will admit that he and Glorfindel did not actually start out disliking one another. The opposite can even be said about Glorfindel, who had approached Erestor with... a manner that was definitely not dislike. Oh, but that was the crux of it. Erestor loathes to think back on the day of their meeting - Glorfindel's bold approach, his sweet words and invitation for evenings spent together, Erestor's impression of him, the words exchanged and the memories that resurfaced with such an encounter.

Truth be told, Erestor figures now that he might have been too quick to take offense. He was the first to throw an attack, but he thought himself provoked at the time. Regrettably, whatever he thinks of such things now, what has been done is done. He has always believed that his initial dislike of the other grew enough for it to be mutual in the long run. Certainly their interactions improved little after those first encounters, even when they had to work together, and the insults and personal slurs they kept throwing one another just... seemed to take a life of their own.

It must be the proximity, Erestor thinks, that had him thinking back on such sour times. He woke with an odd sort of mood, and with only enough strength to spare the necessary pleasantries as he broke his fast with members of Círdan's household. Thank the Valar Glorfindel was late in coming. Erestor quickly ducked away into the library soon after the morning meal, wishing for some time alone.

What he thinks he needs is a distraction, something to do. And so, having acquired a quill and some pages of parchment, Erestor sat again near the balcony doors where the view of the storm is best. He then proceeds to dive into his own mind and thoughts, even as his eyes continue to observe the world outside.

That is how Glorfindel finds him a little later. The Imladrim captain enters the room with his usual manner that alerts Erestor to his presence before he even hears Glorfindel's voice.

"Aah, so you _are_ here," says the warrior. "It is convenient that I always find you in the same place."

Erestor sighs. "What are you doing here again?"

He senses Glorfindel approach, and the chaise cushion dips as the other sits himself beside Erestor much like he did the last time. "The same as yesterday. I am after company." He looks down at Erestor's parchment and quill. "What are you doing?"

"Something that requires quiet," is the prompt reply.

"You write poetry?"

It was, in fact, the book Glorfindel held the day before that gave Erestor the idea for his current distraction. Poetry has always been a source of comfort, but alas, Erestor is a better reader than a writer. Still, some days he attempts it, though it is proving difficult as always.

"Attempting to, if one cares to be technical about it," says Erestor, eyes still on the world outside them. "Lines are coming slowly."

"Come, let us hear what you have."

Erestor, of course, is immediately on his guard as he looks at Glorfindel. "Why?"

Glorfindel laughs at Erestor's narrow-eyed stare. "So suspicious. I might be able to help, is what I mean. I do have hobbies, you know, and watches can grow tiresome, especially in the evenings. For many years, I brought a notebook with me, for there was little that happened in the Encirling Mountains."

Erestor looks down at the top parchment and releases a deep sigh. It is only a single line so far anyway. "'The fitful alternations of the rain'," he says. "That is about it."

Glorfindel raises his eyebrows at this, and his voice is amused as he says, "Brilliant. Are you telling me nothing else inspires you but the weather we have recently been having?"

Erestor drops his quill in offended defeat.

"All right!" laughs Glorfindel again. "Give me a moment." He looks out the balcony doors and pauses a while, after which he then offers, "'When the chill wind, languid as with pain'."

Erestor stares at him as though he has grown a second head. He had not expected Glorfindel to actually help, much less come up with anything, or even to take Erestor's poor attempts seriously.

Still, he is rather stumped, and beggars cannot be choosers. Erestor writes the line down in the end, and scratches down his own notes on the images that follow.

"I prefer sea poems, though," Glorfindel adds.

"Let us hear it," says Erestor without looking up from his notes. It is not as though the day can grow worse.

"What? I did not mean to volunteer reciting one."

"Still." Erestor looks up finally. "I am curious to see if you are any good."

Glorfindel just sort of smiles at him - again, with a bit more friendliness than his usual. He seems to be taking this seriously, this truce of his. And far from appearing bothered by Erestor's challenge, he leans back and looks out the balcony doors, where over and in between the slits in the balustrade one can see a glimpse of the Sea.

" _The sea awoke at midnight from its sleep,_  
_And round the pebbly beaches far and wide_  
_I heard the first wave of the rising tide_  
_Rush onward with uninterrupted sweep;_  
_A voice out of the silence of the deep,_  
_A sound mysteriously multiplied_  
_As of a cataract from the mountain's side,_  
_Or roar of winds upon a wooded steep._  
_So comes to us at times, from the unknown_  
_And inaccessible solitudes of being,_  
_The rushing of the sea-tides of the soul;_  
_And inspirations, that we deem our own,_  
_Are some divine of foreshadowing and foreseeing_  
_Of things beyond our reason or control."_

Erestor stares at him.

"You did not just make that up," he says accusingly.

Glorfindel looks amused. "No, of course not. I wrote it in Nevrast, where we had a good view of the Sea, much like they do here."

"I give up," Erestor says, shaking his head. "You may as well write the rest of this." Damned talented Elves.

This, of course, only serves to make Glorfindel laugh again. "Sulking is unbecoming, Counsellor. But, more importantly: did you like it?"

Erestor merely shrugs, to which Glorfindel widely grins.

"High praise indeed," he says.

Glorfindel relents after this, which is a good thing, as Erestor has nothing more to say to him. He fully expects the other to leave, having naught to do, but then he forgets that they are in a library.

For a while, Glorfindel wanders around, perusing the shelves. Every time Erestor's eyes stray to him, he does indeed look as though he is searching for books to read - and not merely, that is, trespassing on Erestor's space. Eventually, Erestor learns to ignore him, and he goes back to concentrating on poetry.

"You know," he hears Glorfindel say after a while. The voice comes nearer than Erestor expects, and he is not fully ready when the cushions sink again under Glorfindel's weight. "I always wondered why you found me so deplorable. I think I just made a bad impression, although how and why, I would dearly like to know."

Erestor turns to him - again, Glorfindel is throwing such unexpected statements. "I do not know what you are talking about."

"What is it, really? Is it that I am a male, and you do not appreciate such attentions? Do not tell me you are one of those who look down on these things."

Erestor frowns, taken aback. "What is all this? I thought you said you were after friendship."

"I said we also have a good case for friendship, but that is once we have already exhausted all other options." It is not at all what Erestor remembers, but Glorfindel continues. "I, for one, am hoping that you have at least let out some of the steam you have bottled in that head of yours, enough so you may explain it to me this time. So what is it? Are you against such unions?"

Erestor waves him off, saying, "I was long in the service of High King Fingon. Those days, Maedhros Fëanorion visited often enough for us to have grown accustomed to the idea."

This effectively distracts Glorfindel, who now has a look of surprise on his face. "Do you mean that the rumours about them are true?"

Erestor shrugs and waves a dismissive hand. "Who knows? If they were, they were discrete, for we never saw them in any compromising situations. Then again, who crosses Beleriand in the middle of a war just for a few days of pleasantries? There came a point when we just resigned ourselves to it, as long as it is not the king who travelled - not that he followed this all the time."

"What did he do?"

"He would sometimes take his horse in secret and be gone for days at a time. He was no different to a youth in the throes of first love - except, of course, they were far from young, and that son of Fëanor is hardly someone who deserves one like Fingon to take such risks."

"Why did not Maedhros just live in Hithlum?"

Another shrug from Erestor. "It was a time of war. Perhaps it was also pride; he was a lord still, with a realm to rule. Pride and desire for power - we know well enough that his line had these in abundance."

Glorfindel hums thoughtfully. "Such an inconvenient thing, pride. It ever does get in the way of love."

"It was a ridiculous time to be in love anyway," says Erestor, which earns him a laugh.

"Says the dull adviser. You really can use a bit of romance in your life."

That, of course, is Erestor's cue to leave - and so he does.

*

Glorfindel finds him in the same place the following day. Erestor figures, if he is so against these meetings, he could always find some other place to watch the rain. Ever has he been most at peace in libraries, however, and perhaps he, too, has grown weary of so much antagonism with Glorfindel.

The captain comes in to view, carrying a type of board, which he places on the coffee table in front of Erestor. Erestor's brows rise at the sight, and rise even higher as he realises that Glorfindel is setting up a chess set.

"What are you doing?" Erestor asks.

"I thought that is obvious." Glorfindel makes himself comfortable, pulling a few of the larger pillows on the carpet so he is sitting across from Erestor. "Did you not need something to do, too?"

"I was doing fine, actually." He watches Glorfindel for another moment, frowns at what the other is doing, and adds, "It is also considered polite to offer white."

Glorfindel, unperturbed, only smiles at him. "Aah, but I am guessing you prefer to play black." At Erestor's raised brow, the captain explains, "You are always on the defense, and seem unfortunately good at it, too. You seldom make the first move and seem to prefer observing your opponents first. Am I wrong?"

He is not, of course, and Erestor does indeed prefer to play black, apart from the other things Glorfindel claimed - which were also true. But Erestor just stays quiet and does not acknowledge them, not that it seems to deter the other from what he is doing. He even proceeds to make his first move.

Erestor eyes him warily and with some confusion, which seems to be happening often in these dull days in Mithlond. Glorfindel catches him looking though and just openly stares back, even seems to grin a little, far too comfortable under Erestor's scrutiny. The expression looks warm and open on that too handsome face. On any other day, Erestor might have found it annoying, but with the days passing by the way they did, with one seemingly no different from the one before it, he finds he is indifferent enough to let such things pass.

Thinking he has nothing better to do anyway, he leans over the board and takes up the challenge, and moves his first piece.

Thus, they are quiet for a while, exchanging the first few moves. Erestor begins to think this might not be Glorfindel's worst idea - until, that is, he begins to see a pattern in the captain's moves: Glorfindel was trying to mate him early in the game.

"What is wrong with you?" he asks with gritted teeth, and moves to block Glorfindel on the board in disgust. "Did you think I would fall for such a cheap trick?"

Glorfindel's laughter is the loudest Erestor has heard it, open and delighted, as though he truly was in the company of a friend. Sometimes it is a marvel how easily he seems to carry himself. "I just wanted to see your reaction," says the captain as he pulls back his queen. "Whatever gets that bored look off your face."

"My face always looks this way. My apologies if it offends," Erestor spits out with a scowl.

"Oh, no. Far from that," says Glorfindel. Erestor waits for him to say something further, but the Elf-lord seems to have decided to stop there. He merely smiles up at Erestor, who frowns and looks down at the board.

"You have not changed at all."

"People seldom do," says Glorfindel. "The trick is getting to know them as they truly are and not the loathsome things your mind is all too capable of conjuring. Some you might find are good enough and need not change, if you only care to know them."

Erestor sighs. He rests his chin on one hand, elbow on his knee, and says nothing.

They play for a while. Glorfindel plays white masterfully - not that it is something Erestor cares to say out loud - and the position suits him, reflecting much of his usual tactics and philosophies, which Erestor recognises after having worked with him over the years. It is an interesting experience, playing chess for the first time with someone he has known for so long, but one he has never had the occasion to meet for leisure. Erestor has played chess with nearly all his friends and colleagues, and takes note of individual style for later use. They usually come in handy.

Glorfindel eventually picks up the conversation again. "What do you have against me, really?"

"I have nothing against you," says Erestor, half-distracted. So far Glorfindel has consistently taken the offense, and his power over the centre of the board is worrisome, forcing Erestor to truly focus. The game has surprisingly turned quite interesting.

"Then that is odd, as I have always thought you had an instant dislike of me. I remember approaching you several more times during those first few days, but always you had some form of insult to throw."

Erestor looks up then. Glorfindel meets his gaze with his own level one, and Erestor finds he had to avert his eyes, for he realises that Glorfindel's thoughts are not far from where his have been in the past days. "I cared not to be anyone's conquest," he decides to say, "nor was I inclined for casual meetings so many nowadays seem fond of having. Better that you ceased quickly, for you were only wasting your time."

"Conquest?" asked Glorfindel with genuine surprise. "Who told you I was after those things? You judge too quickly, which I now realise is another odd thing, as you are otherwise careful when it comes to other matters."

Erestor examines a captured pawn, turning it in his hand, and wonders for a moment if he ought to say it. "I have nothing against you, only that you reminded me of someone I used to know. I have had enough of the likes of you, people who love easily and whom others find easy to love."

Glorfindel tilts his head at this. "What is wrong with loving easily? Is it not a lovely thing, for one's heart to be so open?"

Erestor knows Glorfindel will not understand it if Erestor looks at him with disdain. All the same, he is not entirely sure that he was able to keep the expression from his face.

"I used to have somebody," Erestor finally decides to say, eyes lowering again to the board. "She was betrothed to me when she was a little past her first century."

Glorfindel's head snaps up at this, and Erestor finds himself facing wide blue eyes. "You have a wife?" asks Glorfindel, near incredulous. He then seems to catch himself, and he pulls back with a frown. "No, you do not. I would have known otherwise."

Erestor stares at him, wondering again at the things the captain keeps saying. "No, I do not. It did not push through." He gently taps Glorfindel's hand, which rests on his horse still and seems to have been forgotten, but the piece is one Erestor intends to take. Glorfindel jumps at the unexpected touch, but promptly frowns again at Erestor's offending black piece, having realised what had just occurred.

Amusement plays in Erestor's mind at the expressions on Glorfindel's face. How refreshing, to finally have the captain in shock and at a disadvantage. It ends up making Erestor tell him more.

"The engagement was unfortunately extended by some business I had at the time for Gil-galad, which required me to travel to Lindórinand. I had to stay longer than initially intended - several winters, though really not all that long, or so one would reasonably think." Erestor looks up to see Glorfindel watching him intently. "You have guessed it? Upon my return, I found that my lady had married herself to another."

"Married herself?" repeats Glorfindel.

Erestor's smile is rueful. "Well, I say that kindly. To be more exact, she was found by her mother in another ellon's bed." Erestor shrugs at Glorfindel's look of surprise. "She later claims she never wanted the betrothal, and that she acquiesced only due to the pressures of her house and the lower status of her intended lover. I suppose I also should change the words I use; it was not a marriage, for they parted eventually after some years - amicably, if I heard correctly."

Erestor rubs tiredly at his eyes. He has not thought about these things for quite some time. "I did not understand it - do not, still, I would even say. Ever have I thought that such things were something we ought to be careful with, and unions of the hröa are as sacred and even the same as unions of the fëa. Is that not what the Valar told us, all those years in Aman?

"Admittedly, I have never paid attention to such things, and so it seems that while I busied myself with other matters, the lands have changed without me knowing, and people were slowly turning away from the old ways. The young ones, especially, who never knew the Valar, cared not for such strict teachings. Nowadays they pair off so easily, declaring love, expressing it readily, then ending it when things fail."

They are quiet for a while, neither moving, the room filled only with the sound of the rains tapping against glass. Eventually, Glorfindel speaks. "Why do you say I reminded you of her? Do we look alike?"

It is Erestor who resumes the game, realising that Glorfindel is waiting for his move. "I suppose I always thought her fair. She was a pretty girl, widely sought after that I knew she had many offers upon reaching her majority. It was probably just that my suit was the best at the time, and so she was promised to me. She, however, was obviously not ready to settle down, and seemed more comfortable with suitors and lovers when they come. They do come often, too, for she was easy to love."

"Forgive me," says Glorfindel, who blinks and shakes his head. There is a strange smile on his face though, even as he says, "Did you just say that the reason why you turned me down was because you found me as attractive as your ignoble fiancee?"

This, of course, causes Erestor to glare at Glorfindel again. "When did I say that? For the love of the Valar, Glorfindel." He visciously moves his queen out of Glorfindel's threat.

Glorfindel, annoyingly, just laughs at him. "I wish you could listen to yourself sometimes," says the captain, "but that aside, this somehow explains your dislike of me, I guess. I remind you of someone whom you have chosen for yourself in the past, but has left you. Did you love her?"

Erestor has much to say about these ridiculous claims, but Glorfindel seems unlikely to be deterred by whatever he would care to say. He chooses, therefore, to focus instead on the last question.

"I was loyal to her. She was my intended; I would have been faithful to her and taken care of her. Given the chance, I would have wanted her happy with me. Even if I had not loved her yet, I was ready to, and perhaps I already had my mind set on her that the news came to me as such a shock."

"I see," says Glorfindel. "Then it is betrayal that you do not understand."

Erestor frowns down at the board. "Ever have I believed in honour, and in the permanence of love. But it seems as though not everyone looks at it the same way anymore, and as time passes people just grow more careless with it. I have been called out on this before, and another has even claimed that what I know of love is not even love at all. Something about passion, that inexorable fire that they claim to be most beautiful when left unbridled, it is something I do not know."

Glorfindel looks thoughtful. "Certainly we hear of such romantic stories. Also, I imagine some would argue that they are merely more open to chances and opportunities to be happy. The old ways are strict, and can curse you with years of loneliness should you part with a lover by death or by circumstance."

Erestor sighs, unable to disagree, though it changes his opinion little. "Many things indeed change with time. Perhaps it is only I who is the stubborn one. In any case, I cannot stop the tides, but I can choose to stand apart from it."

"Is that why you rejected me? You wish to wash your hands completely of love?"

It takes a while for Erestor to respond, and when he does, the words come slowly. "When you first came, news of you quickly reached Ost-in-Edhil, where I was at the time." Erestor sits back tiredly, thinking about those days. "News of you probably reached as far as Eryn Galen. By now you must know the manner by which people talk, so perhaps you can imagine the kind of things they said. You have always been popular among them. I do not know how much to believe, so I erred on the side of caution."

Glorfindel's fair face scrunches with a rueful smile. "You mean you judged me quickly and thought me as deplorable as rumours claimed I am."

"The manner of your approach when we met reminded me of the things I heard. I thought they must not be far off after all."

"My approach?"

Erestor shrugs again. "Confident and learned, as though you know what you were doing. You must have done it a hundred times before."

Glorfindel frowns at this. "Yet I am different," he insists, "and you are most definitely wrong."

"Oh?" Erestor eyes him sharply, growing tired of the other's pushing. "I suppose you shall next claim that there have been no offers to you since your coming to Lindon? I find that hard to believe, given how much people talked."

"There have been offers. It is just that I found few to be worthwhile."

A dark eyebrow rises. "No? Why not? Elves of mixed heritage are not to your liking?"

Glorfindel briefly tilts his face to the ceiling in obvious exasperation. "Valar, you really are awful. No, I never noticed those things. Why would they even matter?"

"It matters to most nobles I know."

"Do those things matter to you then? Because if so, then I would like to have it on record that I am of pure Vanyarin descent."

Though it was likely said in jest, Erestor cannot help but rise to the bait and roll his eyes. "That is, in fact, on record. It must be nice, being a favourite even among historians." Glorfindel sighs irritably at this, which Erestor ignores. "And no, I do not look at such things myself. Why would I, when I myself am of mixed heritage?"

"Oh?" It is Glorfindel's turn now to ask. "What are you, then?"

"Mostly Noldorin." Glorfindel seems to wait for more, which makes Erestor's lips quirk. "I believe you have learned enough about me for today. And anyway..." Erestor looks down at the board. "It seems your game shall end soon."

Glorfindel follows his gaze - and grins. "So it does. I am winning."

"Nay. It shall be a stalemate."

"No." Glorfindel examines the board again. "I can win."

"Indeed. Not a bad match, I must say. I missed a move sometime back. My best hope now appears to be a stalemate - hence, my conclusion that it shall be one."

Glorfindel looks amused. "You are such a sore loser."

Erestor narrows his eyes at him, but says nothing more and just concentrates on the game - which does, indeed, ends with his stalemate.

"I told you so," says the counsellor.

"You are insufferable - a sore loser and a boastful victor." Glorfindel says these with a smile, however. He takes Erestor's king in his hand. "Yet also, still oddly charming. Just for that, I decide to forgive you."

*

They seem to have seen the worst of the rains. The lands outside are wet still, but the winds have relented. Erestor almost misses them.

Glorfindel joins him again one day, this time more subdued than previous days.

"I believe you owe me an apology."

Erestor readily looks up now when he hears that familiar approach. He sees Glorfindel before the other takes his usual seat beside him.

"Here is my case," says Glorfindel, sitting sideways so he is facing Erestor. "I approached you, but you were rude and unpleasant, completely without grace. Even if you were not interested, there were perfectly polite ways to turn down a suitor. Honestly, did your parents not teach you any manners?"

Erestor immediately glares at him. "I can ask you the same thing, seeing as you so easily throw slurs at other people's mothers."

"I wish to know." Glorfindel folds his hands together in front of him while he openly regards Erestor. "You intended to marry once. Do you still wish to, even now?" When Erestor frowns, and tarries on his answer, Glorfindel presses again. "If you were to find an acceptable partner, one that suits you in all ways that matter, would you look at them only with the intention to marry? Or can you see yourself being more open to how it is being done nowadays?"

It must have been the way they passed those days, idly walking Mithlond's halls, conversing when they wished with Círdan and his household, watching the rain, meeting in the library. Erestor looks at Glorfindel now and no longer feels the desire to insult him to his face. Perhaps he did at first see his foolish young maid in him - her golden hair and pouting lips, her blushing cheeks, her open and careless way of loving - but looking at Glorfindel now, Erestor finds he has to struggle a bit to see the resemblance.

Everyone talks about how widely Glorfindel is wanted. His circumstances put him in everyone's line of sight, but his beauty and charm ensure that he stays there, endearing himself easily to whomever he meets. Truth be told, Erestor cannot be counted as an exemption, for even he found Glorfindel breathtaking the first time he saw him. But it was exactly because of this that he knew someone like Glorfindel can only be a bad idea, and so he had kept to their antagonism, safe in their rivalry.

But all these days in Mithlond, learning that Glorfindel truly is intelligent, seems to like the same things Erestor does, and is even better than him when it comes to certain talents that matter - they leave a lingering taste that is almost bittersweet. He may look at Glorfindel more honestly now, but other than this, nothing else has changed.

"I remain the same," he tells Glorfindel, thinking that with this, Glorfindel must cease pushing his case. "You say I owe you an apology; I do. I reacted too strongly when politeness would have been appropriate, or indifference more expected. But you understand now, do you not? You are - would have been - ideal, if only I were different, less rigid, more open. It may seem like a small thing to another, and it might seem odd to be so bothered by such things in this day and age, but... I look for too high a thing, one even I now know may be unrealistic to demand. But that is the way of things, and I am now too old and weary to settle. I cannot give you what you want."

Glorfindel is quiet, though he does not break his gaze. Erestor wonders if he regrets it; Erestor certainly does. But ever has it been unwise to enter any relationship with different intentions, and his own demands, he knows, are strict and high.

"Aye, I understand," says Glorfindel finally. He smiles. "That settles it, I daresay. Just for this, I would say the storm's delay was worth it."

Erestor even smiles back at him. "You are such a child. I suppose that was all you needed all this time, an explanation, so you would cease picking at things?"

"What can I say?" says Glorfindel as he moves to stand. "I like you a lot. It is not as though you were easy to let go."

Being the one who leaves first in previous days, Erestor now sits and watches Glorfindel's back as he walks out of the library. It is a view, he finds, that leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

*

Erestor wakes late in the night to the quiet pitter-patter of rain against his window sill and the leaves that are hung outside it - and to the warmth of soft breaths behind his neck.

He jumps immediately upon realising that he is not alone, but strong arms hold him tight, trapping him to his own bed. He quickly turns for the identity of his intruder.

"Glorfindel!"

Glorfindel smiles up at him. "Erestor."

Erestor cannot believe Glorfindel's gall. He pulls away visciously from the other's grasp to sit up and face him. "How dare you-- after everything that I said!"

"Ssh!" Erestor's eyes widen in shock at the hand that flies to his mouth - then narrows in fury even as Glorfindel says, "Valar, you are loud. It is the middle of the night, you know."

Glorfindel speaks this calmly, and Erestor is aghast with the realisation that not only is Glorfindel lying in bed with him, but he is even under the covers, warm and perfectly comfortable as though he belongs there.

Erestor rips that hand from his mouth. "The middle of the night, yes! Why are you in my room?"

Despite the state Erestor is in, Glorfindel just stares calmly up at him. Erestor flinches as a hand lifts up and moves as though it is about to touch his face, and he promptly swings at it to keep it away from himself. Glorfindel clicks his tongue in annoyance, and swoops in faster and more forcefully this time, cupping a hand on Erestor's jawline, warm fingers resting against his ear and beneath his hair.

"I want to tell you something," says Glorfindel.

"Are you mad? Now is not the time!"

"Yes, now is a perfectly good time. I cannot sleep and I keep thinking about the things you said." Glorfindel's hold then becomes gentle, almost distracted, as his eyes scan Erestor's face. They flicker every which way, as if considering each feature carefully. He then says, "You know, I really do like you."

Erestor can only stare at Glorfindel in disbelief. Really, he cannot understand what the other keeps saying. "You have up to the count of ten, Glorfindel, to get out of my bed and my room before I cut you by the neck."

"I have never been with anyone either, Erestor."

It takes a while for those words to sink in. Surely, Glorfindel did not mean... "You mean," Erestor begins carefully, "you have only had casual lovers, but never ones that last long enough to be _with_?"

Even in the dim light, Erestor thought he saw Glorfindel roll his eyes. "And they call you a diplomat," the warrior whispers in the dark. "Nay, you tactless fool. I have never been with anyone - in all senses of the phrase."

"What?" Erestor shakes his head. Glorfindel, the returned Vanya, lord and hero of old, fair and noble and widely sought after? "How is that possible?"

Glorfindel chuckles and shifts up against the pillows stacked at the head of Erestor's bed. "How? The same as you, I imagine - by avoiding other people's beds." He blinks, looks around where they were, then back at Erestor. "Not counting this, I mean, but its owner being who he is, I figured I would be safe."

Erestor must have looked a sight, for Glorfindel tilts his head slightly and smiles a gentle sort of smile. He takes Erestor's hands and begins to pull him down beside him. "Come. I am not about to do anything deplorable, so please just listen."

He does not speak again until Erestor has settled and laid his head once again on the pillow. Erestor would have protested more, really, but he still feels numb with shock.

"I was glad, you know, when you answered the way you did earlier today." Glorfindel now speaks in a quiet voice, as though imparting a secret not to be divulged beyond the corners of Erestor's bed. The gentle sound of the rain outside goes well with his mood, the background music to his story. "The truth is that many of the things you said in the past few days were things I never even thought about before. Mostly, it is because, like you, I never occupied my time with love and similar things. I never had the time for it, for ever have I lived in times of war and strife."

"Never had the time?" asked Erestor. "In your last life, perhaps, but there was much time before the war in the last age, and even more now after it. You had plenty of time and opportunities."

"Well, yes, but I knew you early upon my landing, didn't I?" Glorfindel laughs at the look of surprise that comes to Erestor's face once again. "Do you understand? I saw you first. It was just my luck that of the many people in this new Middle-Earth with whom I could apparently have had a good time, I picked the celibate old master who walks as though he never saw the end of the First Age."

Erestor frowns at the phrasing, but remains silent as the meaning of these words sink in all the same.

"Now, I say I was glad, but at the same time, I also felt... perhaps overwhelmed. I mean... I, too, have always thought that love ought to be permanent, or that one must enter it with such a goal in mind. I thought that was still the way of things, although now that I think about it, once or twice over the years, I might have met a few who are the same as your young lady in the past. I may not have noticed because I do not really dwell on these things. I care little for how people seek happiness, for I place more importance in that they do find happiness in the end, how ever they may come upon it. Their actions or the things they value are not mine to dictate. It is not my business if they wish to love and let go in the same century, just as they cannot force me to participate in such things when it is not what I desire for myself.

"I never thought of things as seriously as you did, however, but now that I think about it, I do still prefer things the way you described it. I do not want to be with somebody who keeps the possibility of parting from me at the back of their mind, should things not turn out the way they expected it. I wish for permanence and the stability of a true mate. That was what has been in my mind ever since, and unlike you, I did not see this changing of the world that you say you saw. I know no other worlds, and so now that you pointed it out, all the more does it all look daunting to me, and now I..."

Erestor waits, wondering at the pause. Glorfindel looks uncharacteristically insecure for a moment. He picks himself up eventually, however, and pushes bravely on. This time around, he even takes Erestor's hand, one that was laid between them, lying as they are face to face. He holds that hand tightly.

"Now I want you even more. I do not know if it was mere accident that I saw you, but even more am I thankful that it was you who took my heart all those years ago. Please, I would like to try again. I believe I understand you better now. You want fidelity and devotion, and would rather go without than to settle for something less. Courtship must therefore be important to you, and knowing the other person well, to do things slowly and to have respect and affection bloom first before pursuing anything further. You must have hoped for all these things, but when it failed, you washed your hands off anything that could once again hurt you as it did before. But, mayhap you have overdone it a bit? You have grown bitter about it all. Is it not lonely on some days, too?"

"I am not bitter and lonely," says Erestor, offended.

"Oh, my apologies." Glorfindel just laughs at the scowl Erestor gives him, but he tightens his hold on the Erestor's hand when the other tries to get away. "If it makes you feel any better, I have also grown lonely over the years, and so I know first-hand how bitterness can easily seep through a lonely heart. Why else did you think I kept picking on you and making you angry?"

Glorfindel pauses here, rubbing the knuckles of Erestor's hands with a gentle thumb. "It really was not the wisest way to go about things, of course. I was growing tired of it, too, and so I was glad when Elrond told me to bring you here with me. I thought it was my chance to finally speak to you."

Meanwhile, throughout this speech, Erestor lay quietly, but near breathless. "This boldness of yours," he says, finally finding some words of his own to speak. He thanks the Valar for the dim light, for he must be flushing furiously. "This is exactly the reason why I thought you are more experienced than you claimed."

"I truly am not," says Glorfindel, "experienced, that is. Honest, maybe, and boldness I believe I was just born with."

It is Erestor this time who laughs. Although, he feels embarrassed still. "This is hardly the place for these things, you know, crawling into someone's bed late at night and then confessing."

Glorfindel sighs harshly at being reprimanded, but he does not say anything, and just leans back and stares at Erestor with another thoughtful look on his face.

"What now?" prompts Erestor.

Glorfindel narrows his eyes. "You are not answering me, so I am trying to gauge if I need a counter-offer, which I have prepared in the event that you still refuse me. Only, I am reflecting on the wisdom of giving it, since you do not look all that against the first idea. With that face of yours, though, one is never really sure."

Erestor sighs and just barely keeps himself from rolling his eyes. "What is your counter-offer?"

Again, Glorfindel does not speak for a while. He looks down between them at their joined hands, and seems to weigh something in his mind. His fingers play with the skin on Erestor's palm, and Erestor, not at all accustomed to such things, feels it a struggle once again to keep still.

Finally, Glorfindel answers. "If you cannot yet be mine, then I offer that we be friends and get to know one another in the meantime."

A dark eyebrow rises. "I rather like that offer."

"But then you might forget the first offer altogether, and come to think of me as just a friend."

Erestor sighs at such a ridiculous suggestion. "Glorfindel, no one who has a chance with you would ever think of you as just a friend."

Glorfindel does not immediately speak, but a smile does bloom on his face, not unlike that first time when Erestor told him - accidentally - that he reminded Erestor of his lady of the past, because he thought Glorfindel was fair. It takes a while for Erestor to realise again what he just said, but when he did, he tries his best not to clear his throat in further embarrassment. He opts for looking elsewhere, and in fixing the blanket around himself.

"Sweet talker," he hears Glorfindel chuckle a little later.

*

Erestor wakes to bright sunlight streaming in from the glass windows. From where he lies, he can still see the raindrops that dot the surface, so that he knows it has not been long since the clouds parted just enough for the Sun to peek through.

"Has the raining stopped?"

Erestor looks over his shoulder just enough to see Glorfindel rising from beneath the covers. Upon seeing Erestor looking at him though, the Vanya winks at his bed companion, which immediately has Erestor rolling his eyes.

"We still need at least two days without rain before it would be safe enough to travel," Glorfindel continues say. "Plus the roads may yet be unpassable, after having seen that much rain."

"I shall tell Círdan that, so he knows of our plans to stay," says Erestor. He lies on his back with a sigh and looks up drowsily at the ceiling. They have been here for quite a while. "Do you not feel sick of Mithlond yet?" he asks Glorfindel.

Glorfindel looks down at him, blue eyes shining in the sunlight, lips stretching in an easy grin. His hair is a mess, but somehow it all still seems to work for him, still unjustly pretty as his hair surrounds his face with its golden glow.

Glorfindel rests his chin on one hand as he openly stares back at Erestor.

"On the contrary," he says happily, "it is turning into something promising and unforgettable."

 

**Author's Note:**

> [1] Two poems were used here. The lines from Erestor's poem is from 'The Fitful Alternations of the Rain' by Percy Bysshe Shelley. Glorfindel's sonnet is 'The Sound of the Sea' by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, who also happens to be one of my favourite poets. I figured Glorfindel would be the sonnet type, plus the poem reminds me of one of my favourite lines in The Silmarillion. :)
> 
> [2] The chess moves Glorfindel makes would be something similar to a scholar's mate, which is one of those annoying d*ck moves where a player attempts checkmate in as few moves as possible.


End file.
